


Breaking the Ice (In Budapest)

by BasicallyAnIdiot



Series: A Frozen!MARVEL [1]
Category: Frozen (2013), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), Crazy Prepared, Elsa is awesome., Frozen (Modern Era), Gen, Mentions of X-Men - Freeform, Pre-Avengers (2012), SHIELD training fails in the face of Anna, What Happened in Budapest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2197992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicallyAnIdiot/pseuds/BasicallyAnIdiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna crossed her arms. “Are you sure I can trust you with this? You look kind of...”</p><p>“Kind of what?”</p><p>“... useless.” Anna finished lamely.</p><p>“Useless?” Clint hissed back. “Useless? I am a highly trained secret agent and I can kill you with gummy bears.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking the Ice (In Budapest)

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to RBMIfan for brainstorming with me on this and then reading the monster afterwards.
> 
> "You and I remember Budapest very differently."
> 
> Enjoy.

“This is boring. Capital 'B.'” Clint muttered softly into the mic on his suit. The magazine he was reading was opened wide and covered his face from the sharp-eyed receptionist. He was skimming an article about skiing or snowboarding or some sport only performed in the freezing cold that Natasha would probably love. The woman was still watching him, so he took a moment to lay down the news rag on his lap and adjust his double-windsor.

On the other end of the mic, Natasha was painfully silent.

He picked up the magazine again, skimming but not reading; he hated waiting as much as he hated people in suits who didn't tip their waiters. Not to say he hadn't gotten better with whole waiting thing- sniping consisted of hours or days of waiting and a brief moment of action. It was the part of the mission when the entire situation could end up FUBAR because someone got lazy or didn't so their homework right. Clint wasn't one of those people, but he'd been on missions that had gone belly-up because of sloppy homework (and usually ended with a number of bad guys on his butt with no regard for how much it cost him to replace his uniform, 'cause SHIELD could be cheap).

He took a moment to scan the room again; the receptionist had returned to her actual work. It was a nice place, the manor the Arendellan delegation had rented from some member of the Hungarian nobility. Completely beyond whatever budget SHIELD had for Director Fury, let alone for Clint, and it showed- was that a gold tray with an equally gold china tea set walking on by? The doors to the office were opened by the butlers- at the exact same time- and closed just as professionally.

 _“Get over it.”_ Natasha cut in, ever the professional. Her mission was the exciting one- seeing what the Hungarian crime lords were getting up to. No sitting and waiting for her. _“Get close. Find the mutant. Get out.”_  

“Right.” Clint muttered, “Because the X-Men can't handle a few politicians.”

 _“That's why they called us after Europe had a freak blizzard in July,”_ Natasha replied.

Right- because part of the Atlantic froze- annoying mutants, environmentalists and climate-change deniers all at the same time. How did Wolverine put it when Professor X reported in? 'Fucking powerful' and 'bring a parka.' That Wolverine, such a poet.

“Sir, her Majesty will see you now.” The receptionist said, a phone cradled into her neck, eyes peering over her glasses- as if she was examining Clint for imperfections. Clint straightened his suit jacket as he stood.

The butlers' stared straight ahead as he approached- and still somehow managed to open the doors in sync. The office behind the doors stank of old money- hardwood shelves, fancy rugs, and curtains that were Arendelle's royal purple and leaf green and probably silk. Whoever the Arendelle entourage had rented from for their stay in Budapest had the kind of money that left Clint with a foul taste in the back of his mouth. Behind an ancient wooden desk, clear of any unnecessary clutter, sat the Queen.

Though the report said the queen was young, Clint figured she didn't even look out of her teens. Twenty-one. Blonde. Though perhaps bleached because that wasn't a natural hair colour. Ruler of a small kingdom, but that was more than most had. Less than six months into her official reign- which began with that freak snowstorm around the time of her coronation.

The Queen acknowledged him with a level-head and a clear gaze- making Clint snap to a salute in a way he hadn't since he first met Fury- and waved a delicate hand to the chair in front of her. “Please, have a seat.” Soft, accented, and regal in one voice. “Would you like anything to drink? Tea, coffee?”

“I'm fine, thank you, your Majesty.” Clint snapped back to attention before resting and sitting in the chair to the left, the one out of sight of the window behind the queen.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Mr-” She kept her gaze on him the same way Director Fury did. 

“Hadfield. Chris Hadfield, ma'am.” On loan from the Canadian embassy to the British Monarchy, who had handed him off to the security team of the organizing committee as a sign of the international cooperation behind the event. Not the worst cover story Clint had run with- not the best either.

“You have quite the resumé, Commander Hadfield.” The Queen took a sip from her golden tea cup. “Forgive me, but I do not remember seeing you at any of the events listed.”

Observant then. “I'm discrete ma'am. It makes me good at my job.” 

“Indeed.” She said, setting her tea cup down without a click. “My security chief said you were assigned to me by the Summit Committee.”

“Yes, ma'am. It was a special assignment.”

The Queen was silent for a moment. “Of course.” She said finally, “Thank you for meeting with me, Commander Hadfield. My security chief, Leif, will go over the details with you. Please wait for him downstairs.” She stood, Clint stood to follow, “Edith will show you where.”

 

* * *

 

“Elsa! You're back!” There was flurry of movement that could only be described as Anna as she got up from the armchair in Elsa's rented rooms. Anna's hugs were great after a day that left Elsa wanting to be anything but a queen. Elsa relaxed in the embrace for a moment, before pulling back. “How'd it go?” Anna asked.

“It was fine, Anna,” Elsa replied, stretching her arms above her head until there was a soft 'crack' in her back. Suddenly, everything felt better. “Just a bunch of boring meetings.” She fell back into the overstuffed armchair by the fireplace, drawing up her legs and curling into the softness- wrinkled business pants be damned. 

Chocolate was waved under Elsa's nose, reviving her, “You're a Godsend.” Elsa muttered, grabbing one of the offered treats from the gift box.

“I know.” Anna said, setting the box down. “Now, did you figure out who it is?”

Elsa shrugged and pulled out her bun, her long braid falling over her shoulder and her headache disappearing almost immediately afterwards. “Not really. Only one in particular caught my attention,” Elsa said finally, “There's no proof he's the assassin though.”

The crown princess nodded and geared up for her report, “Yeah, Kristoff was saying that too, but he wanted me to tell you he followed, Hadfield, like you asked, and he was led on a wild goose chase though the city. He even lost him for a little while but a nice man with a dog pointed the guy out. Anyway, Hadfield met someone in a cafe here,” Anna said, holding out a file.

Elsa accepted the outstretched offering warily. Inside, several photos were clipped together. Only one stood out to Elsa, the man she had meet earlier that afternoon was distinct, even while in different clothing and wearing sunglasses. 'Hadfield' was sitting out front of a small stall. Across from him, wearing a pink sundress and a light sweater, was a redhead Elsa had never seen holding a glass of water delicately in her hand.

“Kristoff says the woman has been sniffing around the darker part of town.” Anna paused, “She matches the description of the Black Widow, but I think she's too pretty to be a killer.” 

“Well,” Elsa said lightly- because really someone had hired _T_ _he_ _Black Widow_ for her?- “Glad to see they are taking me as threat.”

Anna shifted in her seat, “It's okay, Elsa- I'll never let anything happen to you. And neither will, Kristoff. Or, Sven!”

Elsa smiled, “Thank you, Anna.” She set the file down on the floor by the foot of her chair, “We'll just have to keep this, Hadfield character busy then. I take it, Kristoff is following the woman?”

“Yup!” Anna grinned back, “He'll report back before the ball tomorrow. More chocolate?”

“Yes please,” Elsa said- picking out the hazelnut varieties from the offered tray.

Anna shifted in her seat; Elsa waited for the burst of energy, Anna didn't disappoint. The crown princess of Arendelle shot out of her chair and began pacing the floor in front of her sister, “You know, I still don't get why they just can't let this whole marriage thing go- I mean marriage is not worth someone's life right? I mean it can be someone's whole life but it's not worth assassinating over, let alone a queen. Especially when I was the one to hit the guy!”

Elsa tracked her sister's movements up until Anna stopped- arms outstretched in a pleading manner to Elsa. There was a moment of waiting, just making sure that Anna was truly finished for the time, before Elsa responded, “You hit him, but I embarrassed, Hans and his family. The Southern Isles hold their pride high and their monarchy higher.” Even if Hans had been in the wrong trying to kill Elsa publicly; even if the International Courts agreed and asked the European Union to impose sanctions, it was difficult for any country to see itself as an antagonist. “We are not responsible for the actions of others but we do need to be aware of them.” 

There was a small huff as Anna all but deflated. “Well,” Anna said, returning to her seat, “on the bright side we're getting really good at foiling assassination attempts.”

The Queen of Arendelle, a survivor of several assassination attempts thus far, laughed, “We are getting good, aren't we?”

“Ooo!” Anna said, “Can I be the one distracting Hadfield tomorrow?”

 

* * *

 

Clint knew Agent Coulson more as the only handler in SHIELD capable of handling his and Natasha's missions simultaneously. It was quite the art form, Clint figured, since he and Natasha were only ever assigned to the do-or-die missions (this mission also counted. If Clint caught the mutant and the mutant didn't want anything do with them it could be trouble). Rumour had it Coulson was due in for promotion. Regardless of the man's record, the fact remained that he okay'd Clint taking the Black Widow in instead of killing her as planned. As far as Clint was concerned, Agent Coulson was the only handler he'd ever work with and SHIELD knew it.

At the moment, Agent Coulson sat in the only armchair the hotel room. “Agent Romanov tells me there might be an assassination attempt,” Coulson said the moment after Clint finished his report. “Any ideas who the target might be?”

Clint gathered his thoughts, crossing his arms. He mentally reviewed every detail he knew thus far before shaking his head, “Not enough intel to say conclusively. I think Queen Elsa is a potential- she's only been in power a few months and already someone's gunning for her.”

There was a nod of agreement, almost distracted but Coulson didn't do distracted. “There's bad blood between Arendelle and the Southern Isles. An engagement that almost killed the Queen- her sister might be a target as well.”

“The princess is in Arendelle right now,” Clint argued. The reason the Queen had just about been killed at her own coronation remained murky despite SHIELD's best attempts. There were a few theories: Prince Hans had wanted the throne; the Queen had been protecting a mutant- not knowing that the Southern Isles hated all mutants and slaughtered them by the dozens (that bit of intel was hidden from the rest of the world- SHIELD was not the rest of the world); Princess Anna tried to call off her engagement and Prince Hans disagreed. No one agreed on which one was the most likely.

Clint, personally, had money down on it being a classic tale- boy meets princess, pretends to love the princess so she falls in love with him, they plan to get married, boy then tries to kill the princess' older sister to clear his way to the throne. Natasha's only disagreement was that the prince would probably want to get rid of his wife to completely assure his claim to power. Otherwise he would just be a prince to his queen, instead of king. There was a hundred smackers riding on it- provided someone could figure out what happened.

“Of course,” Coulson added. “Dr. Victor von Doom is on the list as well, along with a couple of other noteworthy characters.

Clint tossed the TV guide down onto the bed. “If, Doom's the target do I have to save him?”

“Pretend to make a valiant effort.” Coulson said drily. “The probable venue is the ball tomorrow night. It's to celebrate peace through successful trade, very prestigious and the European Union would like for us to keep it that way.”

“It's also the best time to nab the target, and kill them out of sight.” At least, that's how Natasha would do it. No fuss, no muss was her preferred method. All Clint needed was a high enough spot.

Coulson continued, “Natasha is going to figure out who the target is and then get the information to you. In the meantime, forget about the mutant and focus on getting everyone through dessert.”

 

* * *

 

The flash was blinding, but Elsa kept her eyes open, and her smile polite. The British prime minister was clasping her hand a little too tightly, but it wasn't enough to shake her private mantra of 'conceal, don't feel.' It might not have done much for her private life, but in the realm of politics it was a life-saver. If she was feeling philosophical, Elsa would have been inclined to say that the biggest poker game in the world was had in trade negotiations: only the pot was much more than just money, and the player's hands more diverse. She wasn't, however, and avoided giving the prime minister a cold stare when he tightened his grip.

This was important after all. Trade with the United Kingdom would go far in recouping the losses brought about by dropping Weselton. Arendelle's economy hadn't entered a recession, but it had stopped it's upward climb and stagnated. As Queen, Elsa refused to let that stand.

There was another flash before the photographers left the room; her press corps ushered in the next round. Elsa kept her crafted smile in place through out all of that, and said, “I look forward to our business together.” A half-truth- for all the good the trade brought, there were downfalls. Outsourcing was only the tip of the iceburg.

The British Prime Minister replied, “As do I, your Majesty.” Ah, proper decorum. A breath of fresh air after dealing with the North American delegation. They thought they were being subtle about their 'freedoms'- Elsa held back her retort of 'which ones? Freedom to or freedom from?' She doubted it would have gone over well, though the Canadians might have laughed. They tended to appreciate royal humour. The British Prime Minster, and his Minister of Trade, left shortly after another quick round of photos. 

There were rumours that Weselton was having difficulties gaining new trade partners, but their economy was fine for the moment. Elsa's concern was for Arendelle and how she could move the build up of Ice, Arendelle's famous blue diamonds, which were coveted by Weselton's artisan jewelry makers and the envy of everyone else. It was dangerous basing their economy on a single item, Elsa knew this, but without the funding produced by trade it was difficult to develop and invite new businesses in.

She had already set up a royal college with free admission to those who passed it's steep entrance qualifications. Not a written test though- writing could be improved- but rather what someone could create if given the chance and some instruction. They had seven days to experiment under the tutelage of masters. Elsa wanted builders, tradespeople, artisans: she wanted the return of her culture in her country, dashed with modern ideas and technologies. These were her people; she owed them nothing less than a renaissance.

And to do all of that she needed money.

Ice would go far to covering that debt, but the money would be in the oil fields that resided deep in Arendelle's territorial waters. Elsa had yet to grant permission on any drilling- she could hold out until oil became a little more scarce and then companies could be charged a premium.

But, her renaissance was about the future. The oil drilling would be a back-up plan in case her fledging green energy sector failed to fly.

There was a polite knock on the door, and Edith stuck her head in and said, “Your Majesty, the dressmaker is here for the final fittings.”

“Send him in, Edith.” Elsa waited as the dressmaker set up the two hangers of the exactly same dress. “Hello, Rupert.” 

Rupert bowed, measuring tape jingling with movement as his assistants brought in the mirrors. “Your Majesty. I have finished both dresses for tonight.”

“Excellent timing.” Elsa took in the man's expression- slightly pinched- and raised a brow. “Is everything alright, Rupert?”

“Forgive me, your Majesty, it's just that when you commissioned me for two dresses, I thought you were asking for two different dresses, not a one plus a copy.” Rupert threw his hands up in a dramatic fashion he must have practiced. “It's that, it's just not done.”

Elsa took a sip of her tea. “It is now. The museum in Kingsbury requested a copy and I was inclined to grant their request. If that's everything, shall we proceed?”

 

* * *

 

The afternoon briefing only covered the ball that evening. It was the first of several, but the most public of the lot, and it had Leif on high alert. Clint, musing from the standpoint of an assassin, figured the ball would be the ideal time to grab the target. As Leif had put bluntly at the beginning of the meeting, it was going to be a challenge for security, meaning it would be easier for the assassin.

Beside Clint, a senior security member- Sven or something, on loan from Princess Anna's detail- snorted and corrected Leif, “You mean nightmare.”

“Shut it, Sven.” Leif replied without pause, and shot straight into the game plan.

Clint let the familiar feel of a mission briefing wash over him: one guard with the Queen at all times, three mingling with the crowd. Those guards, like Clint, had been off-duty for most of the day and were expected to bring their game faces to the dance. Clint had figured that it was weird to have a completely separate shift for an event, but then Leif got a look on his face that Clint normally associated with anyone who had the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Anna, Duchess of Kingsbury, has decided to join us.” Leif said plainly. 

The announcement was met with groans from the Arendelle security team, though Sven appeared to be laughing. Clint looked around at the other expressions, ranging from horror, absolute horror, to in need of a strong drink, and debated if it would be worthwhile trying to solve everything beforehand. Not that that would fly very far until he had a plan. Not that there would be a plan until 'Tasha gave him a name.

Whatever. Clint had done more with less before. This time would be no different.

“So,” Clint began casually, garnering the room's attention, “I take it her Royal Highness likes to shake her detail?”

“Only in the worst-way possible,” Sven said between laughs, “You just can't keep up with her.” 

“Sven,” Leif reprimanded sharply. “It is not our place to comment on the royal family. That said,” Leif took a moment to smile at Clint. It was not reassuring. “Hadfield. You have the honour of escorting Princess Anna during the ball tonight.”

Well, Clint thought, listening to the snickers, shit.

 

* * *

 

The man was good.

Not as good as Coulson or her, few were that good, but good enough it actually took an effort to nab her follower. He had expected her first strike when she pulled him into an alley and remained standing after her first blow to the back of his head. That he had remained standing after her second hit was impressive. He almost remained standing after her third hit, but finally collapsed in a heap. Even Clint fell if she hit him a second time.

He hadn't carried any identification with him, but Natasha knew his photo from the briefing for the mission. Kristoff Rocklove, head of Princess Anna's security detail. Relatively new to the position but had managed to hold it longer than any other before him. Though, why the Princess' head of security was in Budapest, following her no less, and not with the princess in Arendelle was a question she'd like answered.

Getting him back to a motel was easy and Natasha leaned back against the small TV stand. Coulson had some strict rules regarding this one, which included calling him if she crossed paths with Rocklove. Time to see why. She absently poured herself a glass of cool water, adding an ice cube to suit her fancy. A sip proved it was colder than she thought. Natasha gave the matter a whole second of thought before tipped it down the back of Kristoff's shirt.

 _“Ah- What the-!”_ The blond exclaimed, wide-eyed, but managed to remain calm. His slip back to his native language was unprofessional to a degree. Natasha didn't hold it against him; he was only security after all.

“Morning, sleepy-head.” Natasha set the glass down beside the pitcher. She had sprung a bit with the motel room- it came with plastic pitchers. The restraints she had tied with the lamp cord were secured. Her tail wasn't going anywhere.

Kristoff raised a brow, somehow composed though soaked. “Black Widow.” He greeted, “I assumed they were going to go big or go home after the first few tries, but that they brought you in to finish the job is impressive.”

Huh. Natasha had found exactly the right person to talk to. Aside from a couple of rumours, the land of crime in the area was silent on the matter. It was being taken care of by professionals and professionals didn't fib. Everything she had was from suppliers or ... friends of suppliers. “Oh?” 

“Oh.” Kristoff agreed, relaxing into the chair.

Natasha waited. She normally had options, but Coulson was firm about the fact Rocklove was not to be harmed. Even seduction wouldn't work- by all accounts he was in love with his charge. Alright then, she could play nice. For now. “Suppose that I was hired, but by persons who are interested in keeping the world status quo the same.”

Kristoff shrugged as best he could, but the cord held firm, and said “I don't really care who hired you. I only care that you are in Budapest. Your reputation precedes you.”

Right. Arendelle always did keep one eye on the Soviet Union- something about being on the same continent as the motherland was enough to make some countries wary. Killing someone would constitute maintaining world order in some circles, like her former employers.

“I may be here to prevent some thing from happening.” Natasha finally replied, “My current employers like the world rulers exactly where they are. To do that... Well, I need to find whoever it is gunning to ruin world peace.”

Kristoff was silent for a moment. “And that translates to what?”

Natasha shrugged, “You tell me.”

“Well,” Kristoff conceded, “if what you are saying is true, then we're on the same page.”

“How so?” 

“Classified.” Kristoff said to Natasha's bemusement. He sniffed. “People in suits show up. You know how it is.”

Natasha had to take stock at that point. Coulson didn't want her to hurt Kristoff. Kristoff was talking about men in suits. Could... could it be that they actually _were_ on the same page? She had heard rumours about a new division of SHIELD: a group of deep cover agents, known to few, strategically placed in governments and monarchies around the world. Well, it was high-time for her to call Coulson anyway. “Let me make a call.”

 

* * *

  

 _“He's one of us.”_ Coulson said without skipping a beat when Natasha reported in. _“Let me talk to him.”_

“It's for you.” Natasha said, placing the phone near Kristoff's ear. He gripped it with his shoulder, confused expression on his face. The confusion faded away quickly; the blond nodded and hummed a few times. 

“I'll fill her in on the way. Thanks Phil.” Kristoff nodded as best he could to Natasha, “He wants to talk to you.”

Natasha took the phone back. “Yes?”

_“Follow Agent Rocklove's lead, Widow.”_

“Done.”

Kristoff was untied now- Natasha was slightly impressed- and plugging the lamp in. “We have to go. I missed a check-in and Queen Elsa's the target.”

He was halfway out the door when Natasha caught up with him, “How do you know it's the Queen? There are hundreds of heads of state-”

“-And none of them have close to the amount of assassination attempts as Elsa has in the past six months.” Kristoff countered. “Trust me, we've been on this since the Queen was first invited here. Someone wants her dead. We just don't know who.”

Natasha beeped her rental car. It chirped happily and unlocked. “You must have an idea.” It was a statement. If he had been on this as long as he said then he had to have some clue.

Kristoff shook his head as he climbed into the passenger side, “Elsa hasn't been in power that long and Arendelle has a peaceful history. It's likely Southern Isles or Weselton.” 

The car hopped into drive at Natasha's command. It responded like a dream as it hit the streets. “Preference?” 

“Weselton.” Kristoff said finally. “The Southern Isles are pissed at their youngest prince for being such an idiot, not at Elsa. Weselton as a country is in trouble unless they can hammer out new trade deals, but they don't have much to offer. The only reason Arendelle traded with them has to do with history.”

“We can find out later, right now I need you to send a message to my partner,” Natasha, in a deft twist of her body, had her cell phone out and tossed to Kristoff while making a turn. “It's under Hawk. Give him the name.”

 

* * *

  

_'Queen Elsa.'_

Clint hit the button on his watch, deleting the message. Natasha had come through on her end, time for Clint to fulfill his. He glanced over the gowns, sparkly crowns and finery.

The Queen was easy to spot in her brilliant icy blue gown- it didn't have sparkles on it but it glimmered in the lighting nonetheless- as she mingled in a crowd of her fellow monarchs. She would be too troublesome to grab for any would-be assassin at the moment and that freed Clint up to deal with his other problem.

Princess Anna, in her bright green gown, was clearly on a mission this evening to have one of every single hors d'oeuvre she could find. Individually. One at a time even. Clint could work with that, likely. Just had to keep Anna close to her sister and everything would be fine.

Only Anna was off in the other direction- looking like she was about to head off the waiters coming out of the kitchens- with a cry of, “Oh look- cheese puffs!” 

“Your Royal Highness-” Clint began. He never got the chance to finish.

“Caviar!” Princess Anna said. Then she was off running again- well walking as quickly as was acceptable for a princess- leaving Clint to fall behind.

“Princess.” Clint had lost sight of the Queen by then, and had started to lose track of the Princess. He caught a flicker of green and followed it

“Is that chocolate?!” 

It suddenly dawned on Clint, as he watched the green gowned Princess disappear back the way they had come from, that Leif had known about this, had even warned Clint, but it only now had begun to set in. 

_Oh god._

_She doesn't stop._

“Ha! Sandwiches!”

Leif, over by the servant's entrance to the event, shot him a look of pity. Clint kind of wanted to curl up in a ball when he realized, in the short time it had taken Clint to make eye contact with Leif and glance back, Princess Anna had moved ten feet ahead to the fresh fruit selection.

His appreciation and respect for the princess' permanent security detail just shot up.

“Fondue with white chocolate!”

“Princess Anna, please slow down-”

“Can't, there's even pastries!” 

Clint spared a glance to try and locate the Queen- only to curse silently when there was no sign of her. Not part of the plan at all. “Anna please-” Clint did not beg, but it could have been seen as that from a normal passerby.

“Can't stop,” the Princess said, grabbing a cherry pie slice, and _where did she put it all?_   “I have to keep you busy. Ooo! Candy!” 

Busy. She had to keep him busy. Why? “Wait, Anna. What do you mean, 'keep me busy'?”

The crowned princess finally- _finally-_ stopped and turned around slowly. “Oops.”

Clint slowly blinked, unease filling him and fought back a growl. This mission had been out to get him from the beginning and this entire set up was beginning to feel like teeth. “What do you mean, 'oops'?”

Anna shifted on her feet, hands behind her back and looking very much like Clint had just caught her taking the last of the cookies or something. “I mean oops as in, oops. Like 'my bad' or something. You know?”

Clint knew. Clint knew exactly what that meant. “Anna.” Clint said, the very edge of his patience showing, “Explain.”

“Fine.” She shuffled, and, quicker than he thought was possible, kicked Clint squarely in the shin. Hard. “That's for trying to kill Elsa!" 

Clint gasped a little, girl had a leg on her, and did his level best not to pick up his leg. He was an agent of SHEILD. He had no weakness. Not even if he couldn't feel all of his shin at the moment. “Oww.” He said after a moment, because the part of his shin he could feel made him wish he couldn't.

Anna, to her credit, actually looked apologetic for a moment.

Clint took a deep breath through the nose. He was a SHIELD agent and he would do his job. Regardless of who had kicked him in the shin. “What do you mean trying to kill Elsa, Anna? I'm here to protect her.” 

“Ha! You probably belong to some super-secret spy organization and are just saying that so I let my guard down enough to kill me in my sleep! I'm on to you mister!” Anna waved a finger in his face and looked about ready to kick Clint again. Clint darted out of the way just in time. Not that he was scared or anything. The girl just had a mean leg to her and Clint liked his shins. 

It took Clint moment to catch up with everything that had just tumbled out of the Princess' mouth. He breathed through his nose. Again. “Anna, if I wanted to kill you or Elsa, I would have already done it.” The 'and save myself the grief' went unsaid.

“Okay. Point.” Anna shifted again. Clint did not move back out of kicking range he was proud to say. “But, if you aren't here to kill Elsa, what are you doing here?”

This Princess would be the death of him. Or her sister. “I am here to save her.”

Anna almost seemed to take him at his word, but something clicked in the back of her mind and her eyes narrowed in suspicion once more. “How come you didn't deny the whole super-secret spy thing?”

Clint was not about to open that can of fish in front of a crowd of notables. He gripped Anna firmly, in such a way it looked like he was escorting her somewhere. Leif had disappeared from his place by the servants' door and that didn't bode considering Leif had been adamant about 'and no breaks!' He stopped behind one of the columns lining the ballroom floor. “Okay, listen up. I am a spy-”

“Ha- I knew it!”

“-but I'm one of the good guys. The Queen is going to be murdered unless I do something to stop it, so I'm going to need you to hitch up that dress and stay with me so I can keep an eye on her.”

The Princess sighed, and kicked off her heels. No wonder Clint's shin hurt- those had a point to them. “We.”

“What?”

“Elsa is going to be murdered unless _we_ do something.” Anna crossed her arms. “Are you sure I can trust you with this? You look kind of...”

 “Kind of what?”

“... useless.” Anna finished lamely.

 “Useless?” Clint hissed back. “Useless? I am a highly trained secret agent and I can kill you with gummy bears.”

 “Plural? You can't just use one?”

 Alright, if push came to shove, Clint could definitely use just one. That wasn't the point. He couldn't see Elsa any more. Leif hadn't returned either. Where were the rest of the guards? One more scan of the room proved his first analyst was correct. The Queen, and her guards, were gone. “Anna- where's your sister?”

 

* * *

 

When Kristoff had gritted his teeth loud enough that Natasha heard the grinding over the car, she almost took her eyes off the road. Almost. Kristoff was glaring at the road and closed the phone harshly. “They lost sight of her.”

“Great.” Natasha muttered. “Do you have a back-up plan?”

“Elsa always has a back-up plan. Always.” Kristoff pulled out his phone, and opened the back of the case. He fiddled with it for a moment, and by the time Natasha had pulled up to the palace Kristoff was holding his phone triumphantly. “We need to get to the roof.”

Natasha jumped out of the car, not bothering to close the door behind her, “Tracker.”

Kristoff actually hopped over the car's front in his rush, “Like I said. Elsa is always prepared.” He tapped something else on his phone. “I have back-up on the way but it is going to take them a moment to get everything.”

“Let Hawk know.”

The blonde held some sway with the guards on duty, or his business face was something to be feared among the guards, because Kristoff only need to say, “She's with me.” and Natasha was through.

“I'll take lead.” Natasha said, rounding the corner to the service stairs.

Kristoff nodded, and it was refreshing to not have a fight about lead. There was always a new guy who thought he could better than her. Natasha almost always had to clean up those messes. “I'm on your six. Sven will be with me when he catches up.”

Sven actually met them on the third floor, chestnut hair messed and suit ruffled. Might have been asleep when he got the message. He didn't skip a beat in joining the running- he was even barefoot. “Elsa's security was knocked out or killed, including Leif. I would say we're looking at six enemies, well-trained and they aren't interested in hostages." 

“Thanks buddy.” Kristoff said, “Where's Anna?”

Sven hesitated, “Hadfield's got her. I think.”

“You _think_?”

“Not now boys.” Natasha cut in, “Hadfield's with me. She's fine.”

They reached the top access hatch- with only Kristoff's phone suggesting Elsa was the closest to the roof edge. There would probably be at least one gun trained on the door, and no cover to speak of. There was no time to scout for better locations to come out, and no time to see where Clint was. Not ideal. Natasha prepped her guns.

“I'll go first,” Sven said taking off his shirt. “They'll never see it coming.”

Kristoff frowned, “Are you sure buddy? You're only a little more durable when-”

“-It'll be fine. Just get ready to open the door.”

Kristoff gestured for Natasha to press herself against the wall. “We hit hard and fast unless you have a better idea.” At Natasha's head shake Kristoff muttered, readying the gun Sven handed him, “Blitzkrieg it is.” A little louder, he said “Ready?”

Natasha nodded, “Let's go.” 

Then there was 400 pounds of reindeer running past her and out the door, and the shouts on the other side said Natasha wasn't the only one surprised by the sudden animal. Kristoff promptly followed his buddy out the door, Natasha close behind on his heels.

 

* * *

 

Clint reached the roof just in time to see a reindeer go down. What exactly a reindeer was doing on the palace roof would be a question to reflect on later. In the mean time there was seven bad guys- dressed in the cater's uniform- between him and the queen, and only four of them had been disabled. The Queen was too close to the edge for Clint to be comfortable with.

His presence had yet to be noticed, in the confusion that was Natasha's handiwork in action, allowing Clint one good shot to take out the guy trying to stab the blonde who had been following Clint the day before, leaving the man free to take out the next jerk. The gun shot gained Clint the notice of the outlier.

Then the Queen noticed the Princess who had run out from the safety of the air vents, even though Clint had told Anna to stay until it was clear. “Anna!” Hope bloomed on the Queen's face even though she was still held hostage and boy, oh boy they weren't even out of the woods for her to be so happy. The guy holding her looked like he wasn't sure who exactly he should be trying to kill either.

“Elsa!” And, Clint would reflect later, that might have been when everything went to shit, because the leader of this kidnapping squad knew a lost cause when he saw one and shoved the Queen off the edge.

 

* * *

 

Natasha rushed forward after the Queen fell to take out the leader with a well-placed elbow, and followed up with a round kick for good measure. She spared a moment to check his vitals. Alive. For now.

Clint didn't manage to catch Princess Anna as she bolted after her sister, though. “Elsa! Oh please no! Elsa!”

Kristoff, either used to this or more prepared for this outcome than the rest of them, caught his Princess in a bear hug from behind. No matter how the woman flailed, Kristoff's grip was sure. “Anna. Calm down. There's nothing you can do.”

Natasha ignored the rest of the mantra, instead tying up the murderers sans kidnappers. She glanced over to where Clint realized he had the worst part of this job. He was steeling himself. She could just see him berating himself for failing, for not being fast enough, for not being more prepared.

Clint didn't shy away from duty though- it was not in his nature- and with careful, purposeful steps he made his way to the edge and leaned over to confirm the Queen was dead.

Natasha was not expecting her partner to say, “What the hell?”

She furrowed her brow, checking her knots once more before joining her partner. Raising one brow, because wasn't that interesting, she turned to Kristoff- who had managed to convince the now-sobbing princess that Sven needed her help and couldn't she hold that there to stem the bleeding?- and gestured him to see this. 

The blonde took a breath but joined them nonetheless. He stared at the giant snowflake covering the ground below them, the empty dress in the middle, at the intricate swirls around it and how the ice glimmered in the lights in the garden, and just about collapsed in relief. “Thank the gods.” 

“What do you mean, thank the gods? Where's the Queen?” Clint snapped.

“Right here.” Natasha did not whirl like the others on the roof did, she turned slowly to see the Queen standing, prim and proper at the entrance to the rooftop, surrounded by police and security.

Anna shot up like a rocket, tears falling and ruining her makeup, and right into her sister with a gleeful cry of, “Elsa! You're alive.”

Elsa smiled warmly and held her sister close. “I know silly. Did you ever doubt me?”

“But, but you went over and-” Anna was cut off by another hug.

The Queen of Arendelle released her sister and turned to the group looking very much alive, “Please join me in the blue drawing room. Security can handle this mess from here.” 

Natasha spared one glance at Clint, who looked as confused as she felt, before following.

 

* * *

 

It was one of the weirder meetings Clint had in his life. Including that time he had to explain to Fury why he kidnapped the Black Widow instead of killing her. He was pretty sure it was because there was a reindeer- who was Sven, the security guy who offered to show Clint how to sneak in energy drinks to the ball earlier that day, and that was a touch weird- in the room eating all the fruit available. 

Or it might have been the fact there was a woman Clint _saw_ fall off the roof calmly sipping her tea. Queen Elsa was smiling- a true smile, Clint could tell from the way her eyes were crinkled in the corners- and Anna was blabbering on and on how Elsa better not scare her like that again and Clint only really caught every other word.

Elsa waited for her sister to finish, before turning to where Natasha and Clint had settled in front of the fire. “I suppose you have some questions for me.” She said.

She sounded resigned in Clint's ears. 

“I take it you are able to create doubles.” Natasha said matter-of-fact like because of course she figured it out. “And that freezing the Atlantic was a mistake that will never be repeated.” 

Elsa looked surprised and gave a wane smile, “Yes. Though a excellent way to break a heat wave.”

Well, this meeting officially topped any meeting Clint had with Fury or Coulson or both together. “Well, at least you had everyone pissed off at the same time,” Clint said, “I thought it was very impressive.”

The Queen laughed loudly at that, “Indeed.”

Anna looked ready to say something, and holding it in was taking it's toll. She lasted an additional second before blurting out, “But when did you make the switch? It looked exactly like you!”

“Earlier this afternoon, after my dress fitting.” Elsa said quietly.

Anna actually looked hurt at that. “You didn't tell me that. Why didn't you tell me?”

Suddenly the Queen was back, regal and ready to make the hard calls required of her station, “It had to be able to fool you, Anna. If it could fool you, then it could fool the world and the kidnappers.”

Oh, Fury would have loved this woman. She was just as cut-throat, merciless as he could be even with her own family. Clint shook his head and cut in, “So wait, the you back at the party was-”

“Made of ice.” Elsa finished.

“Huh.” That was crazy prepared. A tracker on the decoy. The real queen hidden away. That was clap worthy even. “And it was a puppet?”

“More like a part of me, split off to act on my behalf.” Elsa replied, “It was acting independently of me.”

That wasn't crazy prepared, that was crazy _powerful_. Creating animated beings that could pass as real people. Capable of freezing the Atlantic. Clint was almost afraid to ask what else Elsa could do if she put her mind to it.

S-class mutant indeed.

“Obviously, it would be for everyone's benefit if no one else outside of this room learned what really happened to night,” Elsa continued. “If word got out that a mutant was in position of power like I am, it would be... problematic.”

There was a knock at the door, and at Elsa's 'come in' a security guard entered, bringing what smelt like pizza with them. He spared Sven the reindeer a glance but otherwise ignored him. “Your Majesty,” he began, “We have interrogated your kidnappers. They admit to the attack on your guards and your person and did so on behalf of the Duke of Weselton.”

Elsa took it in stride, “Very well. We will deal with the repercussions in the morning.” She paused for a moment, “And Leif?”

The new guard shifted awkwardly, “I'm sorry, your Majesty.”

“...I see. Please leave us.” Elsa waited until the security had left before turning to Anna and quietly said, “We should let his wife know.”

Anna whispered back, decidedly more subdued, though pointlessly considering the room was most filled with spies of varying colours, “We'll stop by on the way back.”

“I'm sorry, Elsa.” Kristoff said from where he had stretched out on one of the couches, Sven on the floor beside him, the gash on his side stitched up. Clint honestly thought the man was asleep, his eyes were still closed. “But maybe we can grab Weselton by the balls this time and keep them in line with this.”

“Right.” Elsa agreed. “Weselton will be dealt with.”

“Well, this is depressing.” Clint gained an elbow to the stomach from Natasha who hadn't even changed her expression.

“You are right.” Elsa smiled again, easing away from the pain, and picked up some pizza, Anna following suit, “We were lucky you two crossed our paths. Without your help this evening could have ended far worst than it did. We had not planned for so many kidnappers.”

“All in a day's work, ma'am.” Clint answered, and he totally caught Natasha rolling her eyes.

Elsa finished swallowing some pizza, and blinked up at him, “So does that mean I have earned the right to your real name?”

“Ah, um see I'm not-” 

“That's Clint Barton. I'm Natasha Romanof.” Natasha cut in, grabbing a slice of pizza and curling up on the loveseat like she was part cat or something. 

Clint shot a withering look at his partner. “Does secret identity mean anything to you any more?”

“It's insurance.” Natasha shot back. “We were sent to prevent an assassination; no assassination happened. The fact we discovered a couple of mutants in the process is irrelevant to our mission objective. Our covers for her personal safety. She doesn't have to worry about us spilling details about her situation.” 

“Thank you, Natasha.” Elsa said, suddenly relaxing into her chair and kicking off her shoes. She folded her legs under her, ball gown rustling with the effort. “Chocolate?”

“Yes, please.” Natasha actually perked up at that.

Anna stifled a yawn, “Hey Clint, you have my thanks and stuff.”

“Really? Because I have a distinct recollection of being accused of being the assassin.” Clint teased grabbing his own pizza slice. Meat lovers' pizza for the win. 

The princess blushed and perked right back up, “Hey! You do belong to a secret organization. How was I to know which one?”

“Please, we're the only secret organization with class. Something that I am full of.” Clint finally allowed himself to collapse into the remaining chair.

“We are well aware that you are full of it, Clint.” Natasha said.

“Hey!” 

 


End file.
